The great fire of District 12
by Skittles001
Summary: Madge Undersee is caught in the crossfire of the bombings. She needs to escape. But when she realises her family is in trouble, she runs to save them, like her life depends on it, because theirs do. Set in CF during District 12 fire bombings. One shot.


2 months ago_:_Madge.

The sirens blared in my ears, ripples of pain and confusing running though me. I whipped my head around, looking for someone, anyone who could tell me what was going on.

That was when the first bomb dropped.

I was thrown off my feet, soaring through the air and landing painfully against the apothecary wall. I winced, every breath gone from my body in a moment. Coughing didn't seem to help. The air was polluted with dust and particles, singing my nostrils, and coating my skin with grey smudges.

Then the next one fell.

I clung to the lamp post, using it as leverage, but it teetered under the force of the explosion. I pushed myself away from it, running as fast as I could before the thing came crashing down. An almighty crash came from behind me and I wheeled around. The lamp post had landed half a foot from where I had stopped. If I had gone any slower, or left a second later, I'd be dead.

The sky was flaming orange, swirling with tendrils of smoke and embers and the sounds of screaming mothers searching for their children.

My mother was alone in the house.

Without a seconds hesitation I forced my way through the gathering crowd, who pushed and shoved in the opposite way, trying to break away from the fire bombs and the hysteria.

I was running towards it. I had to. My mother needed me.

My lungs grew heavy, like lead from the dense smoke emanating from the forest and the buildings that came crumbling down. District 12, my home, was crashing down around my ears. I couldn't think about it, I had to get to my mother, I had to get home.

An arm caught me and yanked me back forcibly, almost tearing it out of its socket. I snatched my arm away and gave him a reproachful look. His grey eyes stared down at me in horror and anger.

"What are you doing?" Gale yelled, his voice carrying over the cacophony of disaster around us. "We have to leave!"

"My mother's at home, I can't leave her. And my dad…." The thought that I might never see my family again was soul-crushing. "I have to find them."

"There's no time," Gale screamed, pulling me after him towards the running crowd. His mother and siblings were waiting at the edge of the forest for him, calling his name. He hesitated, looked toward me and back to them, and pulled me even harder, in the direction of the clearing.

I struggled against his grip, and thought of the only thing I could to get my out of this. I wrenched my hand away and jabbed my foot into the crook of his knee. He fell, and I had just enough time to get away, and he could run to his family, since he wasn't injured. It was a win-win.

I heard him yell my name, but I kept going, not daring to look back. He had to understand. If it was his family, he would do the same thing. I rounded the corner of the street and was paralysed with horror.

My home was consumed with white-hot flames.

And my father was standing outside.

I ran as fast as I could, hopping over the steel gate and careful not to touch it. The heat radiated off it, and my skin prickled with the waves coming from my home.

Fire, fire everywhere. They started at the base of the garden, and slowly swelled, tributaries of flames crawling up the windows, reaching for the upstairs bedrooms.

Where my mother was.

"Dad," I screamed, my breathing pained and laboured from the heavy smog. "Is mom in there?"

Dad could barely hear me through the sirens and the shock. "What?"

"Mom," I said again, my voice growing louder and angrier. "Is she with you?"

"No," He said slowly, "I thought you had her."

We stared at each other for a moment, and then a heartbroken sob broke from my father's mouth. "Maryse," he cried, tears welling in his eyes, and flowing over the scorch marks.

"We have to do something," I said quietly, contemplating what could possibly happen, worst case scenario. I didn't like it very much, and it hurt to think about.

"I'm going to the town hall," My dad said, his formality and mayor like attitude now in play. I didn't need a mayor, I needed my parents.

"Why?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"They have pales, we may be able to stop the burning. "

Just then another bomb landed, and the ground beneath us shook violently. Dad's eyes were frantic, and he looked down at me, love and fear in his eyes. "This is my district, I have to protect it."

"What?"

"Madge, There is an airship coming; be on it. Do this one thing for me, this one last thing."

I finally understood his meaning, and a scream broke from me involuntarily. "Daddy," I said, my eyes filled with tears, saying the words I hadn't spoken since I was five years old and had fallen off my bike. "Daddy, I need you."

Dad placed a hand softly against my cheek. We were both marked with scrapes and burns, and the slightest touch caused me to ache, but it was worth it, just for that one last moment with my father.

"Madge, I love you. I always will. Even when I'm not around, okay."

"Daddy, please, don't leave me." salty tears burned my skin, but I couldn't help it.

"This is my district," he said again, sadness in his eyes. "I will be with it when it goes down."

"Please," My voice broke from emotion, and the words were caught like a heavy lump in my throat.

"Be on that ship, Madge. Promise me."

I stayed utterly still, trying to fight the feeling of weakness and nausea overcoming me. Dad grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and knocked me out of my reverie.

"Promise me!" He said fiercely, searching my face for a memory to hold onto, sinking every line and crevice into his mind.

"I promise," I said weakly. He kissed me swiftly on the forehead and raced toward the town hall, to try and prevent more damage from being done.

Once he was just a distant memory and disappeared from my line of sight, I realised my mother must still be inside. My father was going off to die, I wouldn't lose her too.

I ripped the hem off my dress on a stone on the way to my house. I tore the heavily singed and smoking fabric quickly, leaving black soot marks all over my hands. I raced to the nearest fountain, which was ten feet away, and wished it was closer. I nearly cried from happiness when I saw it had water. I dipped the sodden fabric in and raced toward the house.

The door was almost burned through, and the heat was unbearable. After three failed attempts to ram it open with my shoulders, I cried out in pain. I thought of my mother, sleeping helplessly while smoke surrounded her, entering her airways and chocking her silently, and with one final push, the door flew open.

The foyer was like a fiery hell. Flames wrapped themselves like ribbons around the banister of the stairs, and boards creaked and cracked and came tumbling down around my ears. The smoke was stifling, and the heat even more so, and I fought my way upstairs, ignoring the unbearable pain and pricing across my legs and arms and every other part of me.

I tried to call "Mom", but the smoke strangled my words, and choked me. I pushed past the inferno on the dressing tables, and the heat spreading across the walls, ceiling and doors. I was trapped, and I had to get my mother at all costs.

I found her bedroom door, and jerked my hand away as soon as I touched the scorching hot brass door knob. Wrapping my fist in the remains of the pale blue skirt of my dress, I pull the door open.

And was thrown back from the explosion.

I writhed on the floor, my clothes on fire. I rolled around to stop the flames, and held the wet fabric over my mouth again, allowing me to breathe. Well, attempt to breathe.

My mother was where I had left her this morning; sleeping silently on her bed, one arm hanging off the edge, a box of Morphling tucked underneath her.

She looked so peaceful, I thought it could have just been any other day, and she wouldn't want to be disturbed.

The flames marred the peaceful effect.

I leaped to the bedside and shook my mother, shielding her from the falling debris and getting the brunt of its weight as it sliced though my back.

"Mom," I screamed, shaking her on the bed, and clutching her close as another ceiling tile came lose from the wall. "Mom, wake up."

She groaned in response, and my heart leaped; she was alive. I shook her again and again, but she never became more reactive than before. I frowned and tried to think of a way downstairs. Coughing, I leaned over on the bed and placed my mothers limp arms across my shoulders and guided her downstairs. She must have taken an extra string dose, because I couldn't rouse her awake. We got to the stairs, and crawled down them slowly, only flames and smoke visible, and no steps could be seen. When we reached the final step, the stairs gave way, and I stumbled under my mother's weight. A huge chasm appeared in the ground and continued to grow and grow, as though eating the floor.

I could feel myself slipping backwards, and tears streamed down my face. I was going to die. And so was my mother. And it was all my fault.

I should have been stronger, I should have gotten there quicker. I shouldn't have left her alone. I went to the square to get her some more medicine for when she woke up, like she had asked before she slipped into a semi-catatonic state.

If I hadn't left her, maybe we would have both survived. I could see the flames crawling across the ceiling, and felt myself and my mother fall backwards into the gaping hole. I closed my eyes, and waited for inevitable thud.

I stopped falling, and looked around. I was hunched on the ground at the edge of the hole and my mother was gone. I called her name, but couldn't hear her response. That's when it hit me: She had woken up. She saw that she was pulling me over, and had let me go. I cried, floorboards cracking beneath me, but I didn't care. I just sat there, among the flames and cried. I had lost everything today; everything! Why shouldn't I be allowed to mourn?

The front door smashed open again, and I craned my head around to see who it was. Gale stood there, frantically searching for something. His eyes fell on me, and relief washed over him; he's been searching for me.

"Madge, we have to go!" he said, coughing on the smog exiting the doorway. Outside, the sun shone, and Gale was illuminated with a halo of white. My saviour.

But I didn't want to be saved.

"You have to help me," I said, running towards him and pulling on his white t-shirt, dragging him inside. He stumbled, but quickly regained his footing.

"This house is going to collapse, Madge. We have to get out of here."

"Not without her!" I said, pushing my way to the basement stairs. She had to be down here. Maybe she had survived; maybe I could save her after all. "Mt mothers down there. I can't lose her, too."

Gale followed me, and grabbed my arm, more gently than before, and pulled me into his chest. "Madge," he said softly, "I get it. I really do. If it was me, I'd do the same thing. But she wouldn't want you to give up. She wouldn't want you to die trying to save her. She would want you to live. This isn't your fault; it's the Capitols. And trust me, we'll get them for this," Gale's grey eyes blazed like the tendrils of heat surrounding us, and I was momentarily stunned. He was right. She wouldn't want to lose me, like I had lost her. And only one thing stopped me from chasing down those stairs.

I'd made a promise to my father.

I promised him I would get on that ship.

Tears leaked down my cheeks, and I nodded my consent. "Let's go."

Gale and I raced out of the house, and I turned my head as I ran and watched the house, the only place I had ever called home, crumble to the ground, the remains of my mother trapped inside. I stopped and watched in horror, but Gale caught me and threw me over his shoulders. I beat against his back, willing him to let me down, but he said we had to go. Once he was sure that I actually meant what I said and that I wouldn't turn back, I raced towards the ship, and escape this hell.

I don't think I will ever forget my life as Mayor Undersee's Daughter, the great times we'd had in District 12 and my childhood. I replayed the memory of my mother singing a lullaby to me softly as she brushed knots from my golden hair before bed as a child, and the warmth of her smile. These memories were all I had left of my life here, and they consumed my days and nights; both dreams and nightmares.

One thing was sure, I blamed myself.

But I blamed the Capitol even more; they would pay for what they had done.

My life depended on it.


End file.
